On Virtue

Phillis Wheatley, 1753 - 1784

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive

To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
Thine height texplore, or fathom thy profound.
But, O my soul, sink not into despair,
Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand
Would now embrace thee, hovers oer thine head.
Fain would the heavn-born soul with her converse,
Then seek, then court her for her promisd bliss.

Auspicious queen, thine heavnly pinions spread,

And lead celestial Chastity along;
Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,
Arrayd in glory from the orbs above.
Attend me, Virtue, thro my youthful years!
O leave me not to the false joys of time!
But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.
Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
To give an higher appellation still,
Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,
O thou, enthrond with Cherubs in the realms of day!